The Way You Look Tonight
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: A drunken, heartbroken Seth Rollins finds his way to a hotel on Valentine's Day and is captivated by the gorgeous pianist performing there that night, Roman Reigns. Story #5 in my "Shipper Chy's Valentine's One-Shot" series. Rolleigns. Pre-slash, deserving a sequel or an extension [in my humble opinion, anyway.] Inspired by a prompt from Tumblr.


**_A/N: Hope you guys don't mind that this is an AU. I found the prompt on Tumblr a while ago, and I've intended to write it as Rolleigns ever since. I didn't want a story too similar to my Ambrollins Valentine's story, so I figured an AU would be okay. Enjoy~_**

* * *

He didn't know much, but what he did know, he wasn't proud of.

He didn't know how he'd ended up in this hotel, at this bar—because he'd been drunk long before stumbling through the sliding doors of the lobby and asking the timid concierge where the bar was.

He didn't know the name of the drink he was currently guzzling, though it hadn't been more than three or so minutes since he'd requested it by name and the bartender delivered it to him.

But what he did know was he was drunk, he was angry, and this music was just lovely.

Seth Rollins drilled a black gaze into his glass, appalled it was empty already. His head elevated towards the bartender, who'd been giving him a skeptical look since his arrival—whenever that was.

"Can I get another one?" Seth groaned. His throat tingled with the burn of bittersweet whatever-this-was.

The older bartender scoffed. "You look like you had one too many five drinks ago, kid."

 _Five? That all_? "I'm not drunk. Just upset." Even intoxicated, Seth was a decent liar. His swollen eyes and defeated voice could back up his statement. Both facts were very true, but he could only pass one off as such.

"This is a nice place," the bartender went on, polishing a glass with a white rag. "Wouldn't you prefer Barney's down the street?"

Now it was Seth's turn to scoff. "What, you think I can't fit in a place like this? Huh? I don't _look the type_ , is that it?" He raised his arms up, referring to his physique and wrinkled ensemble, but returned them to the bar when he started to lose balance. "I'm paying you, so just let me drink, huh?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Okay, but if you make a scene, you're out on the street."

Seth somehow managed to delve into his wallet and retrieve a five-dollar bill. With a weak flick of his wrist, he threw it at the bartender. "Just give me another one. Please." _I'm almost there. Close to forgetting this night ever happened…close to forgetting anything ever happened with her. Just a little bit more, come on_.

He complied, at last, filling Seth's order—by filling a glass. Seth decided to take his time with this one. He swung his head in the direction of the lovely music. Piano, live, floating from just across the bar. "What's that noise?" he asked, meaning something else but the words had left his mouth before his brain could edit them.

"The piano?"

"Yeah…what I meant was…what's that song playing there?"

The bartender listened a moment. "Frank Sinatra. 'Come Fly With Me.'"

"I thought he was dead," Seth grumbled. He meant it as a joke, but it only discredited him as a sober fellow. "Just kidding."

"Y'know, kid, I worked taverns on Eighth Street for eleven years before coming over here. I listened to a lot of stories. You may be sloshed, but if you're hurt about something, I've got two ears that work well."

Seth shook his head. "Thanks, but I got it. Just gotta…I gotta…"

He couldn't remember his point.

Oh, this was working really well.

Soon he'd forget her name. Forget the bitch ever existed.

"Can I go…go in the…go…" Seth assumed the only solution to his stammering was more alcohol. He finished off his drink, then pushed the empty glass away. "I'm gonna go…walk around."

"That's an awful idea, guy."

"Just watch me," Seth stated, finding his way to the floor, remarkably without tripping. "If I mess this up, you can kick me out. Promise."

Really, he was just trying to get to the music. The light playing, the song he recognized—sort of—was restoring to his damaged heart. Frank Sinatra, what a guy. Such tender lyrics for someone Seth considered so _badass_. Love songs would make him bawl.

Maybe that's what he needed. To cry. Let it all out. Sing along.

Anything was better than picking a fight and getting his ass kicked. That would have happened at Barney's. Stupid bartender, was he _trying_ to get Seth killed?

Seth only stumbled over his own feet a couple of times before reaching an empty table, the closest unoccupied seat to the piano. He was surprised to see it was a _beautiful_ man responsible for the keys that sang to him. A real, living Liberace, with much longer hair. This pianist's jet-black mane spiraled in waves over his concentrated, chiseled face. Seth laughed at himself, not realizing it was aloud. _Am I so over her that I'm checking out other guys now? Fuck me_.

"Come Fly With Me" faded into another Sinatra song Seth recognized. "Ooh, yes, very good," he spoke, putting a fist over a mouth before he quietly burped. "Love this one, sir, _excellent_ pick."

He noted the pianist smiling at his comment, head bobbing as his skilled fingers brushed over the correct keys. Seth was confident he had the lyrics memorized. " _And the way you look_ …wait, not yet. _Some day…when I'm awful low, I feel such—such a—the world is cold, I can feel a glow just thinking about you, and the way you look tonight_ …"

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and he dabbed at them with his thumb. Why was he sad? Was this song a fond memory for him…of _her_? Of _them_? Even if it was, he could still enjoy it, right? Through the pain, his off-lyrics carried on, a bit louder now: " _You're so…you're so smiley…w-warm…and your cheeks are so soft, and I feel…I know…this way about you…in the way you're look…tonight_ …"

"Excuse me, could you keep it down over there?" The bark came from a man sitting with his wife, girlfriend, whoever, at a nearby table. "You're being rude."

"Sorry," Seth said with absolute sincerity. "I love this song."

"Well, we do too, so quit ruining it for the rest of us."

Seth looked around. "There's, like, five people in here."

"And one less heckling asshole if you don't quiet down."

His woman touched his arm, whether to quiet him or praise him for yelling at a poor drunk bastard. Seth buried his head under his arms and sobbed. _Can nothing go right? Nothing_?

The pianist wasn't interrupted by the conversation, but he regarded Seth now in full. Without missing a single note, his eyes mesmerized the handsome albeit troubled individual, sitting alone. Table for one. On Valentine's Day? A shame, really. Especially in his deteriorating state.

Seth was still singing, voice muffled by his own arms. " _Lovely, ever, never change. Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please…change it? Cause I love you_ …" He lost a bit of his composure on those ill-fated words, and his voice mangled into whimpers. He grasped his hair with all fingers and tugged on the bleached ends. _What is wrong with me? Hurts to remember, hurts to forget, I'm lost, I'm lost_.

The pianist wrapped up his song with a brilliant ending, and he was met with impressively loud applause for such a small crowd. "I'm gonna take a five-minute break, then I'll be back," he announced into a tiny microphone.

Wow. His voice was godly. Suave and deep like he was trying to sell deodorant and body soap. Why was he only playing, and not singing as well?

"Hello there."

Suddenly the voice was much closer, louder even without a mic. Seth looked up and realized the pianist was standing before him—taller and even more handsome up close. His eyes were large and brown and gorgeous. His muscular form was not hindered by his suit and tie.

Seth was truly lost for words.

"I know this is probably a stupid question, but…are you alright?"

Seth meant to nod but his head shook side to side, indicating the truth. No, he wasn't alright. Not in the slightest. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your playing…it's just…you're a good piano player and I liked that song."

"It's okay. Can I sit down?"

"I don't know why you'd want to. I'm kind of an ass over here," Seth moaned.

"It's not exactly like me to ignore someone who needs help."

"I don't need help."

"But you're not okay." The sinfully attractive musician pulled a chair out for himself—not across from Seth, but right beside. "I'm Roman."

"Hi, Roman. I'm Seth, and honest to God, you're not catching me in my finest hour."

"Well, that's a relief. If this is your finest hour, I'd hate to see you on a bad day. No offense."

Seth laughed. "No, no, I get it. I'm sorry. Tonight didn't go as planned."

"Oh?" It was an invitation to go on, if he wanted to. Roman must have been patient.

"Yeah. I, uh, I got dumped today. I mean, wait, no, that's not what happened." Seth squeezed his eyes shut, now trying to draw back memories he'd spent the past…however many hours or so, trying to eradicate for good. "I dumped her. Yeah, that's right. I found out she was cheating on me. Hitting up my best friend on the side." The pain of the truth made his insides twist into knots. He felt ill. _God, please don't let me vomit in front of this guy, thanks_.

"I'm sorry. That's awful."

"Tell me about it."

"You deserve better, Seth."

Seth grinned pitifully. "You don't even know me." _God, what a fucking incredible name, Roman. Sounds so pretty. Pretty pretty Roman pretty_ …

Even his inner thoughts were giving up on him.

"I don't have to know you to respect you as a human being. Nobody deserves that kind of shit from someone they commit time and emotion to. And on Valentine's Day, too? Man. Nuh-uh." Roman shook his head.

"Thanks." He didn't know what else to say.

Roman placed a hand on his knee, rubbing it in a way that sent electricity through Seth. "You're gonna be okay, I know it. Tonight may suck, but every day's a fresh start. Count on it. You may not believe me now, you may not even want to. But it'll come to you in time, and you'll be comforted by it."

This total stranger—this totally hot, perfectly talented stranger—telling Seth things would be okay? Where did _that_ exist in the world anymore? Roman was either clueless or a total sweetheart. Either way, Seth was appreciative, and he wished he had the sense and sobriety to tell Roman just what these words were meaning. "I—I'm really—thanks, Roman, I can believe it for myself soon. Just not now."

"It'll take time." Roman smiled softly at him. "But you'll get there."

He checked a silver watch on his wrist. "I need to get back to work. I'll be done by ten-thirty."

"Do you take requests, Roman?" Seth asked as Roman lifted from the chair. _Don't go_ , something inside Seth asked of him.

"Sure. What'll it be?"

"Can you play…" Seth racked his brain for the right title. "'What a Wonderful World'? You know it?"

"I do." The smile was back, warming Seth right up.

"It's a beautiful one."

"It is. Will it make you sad, though?"

"Nah. There's more beauty in the world than some skank I used to have the hots for."

Roman laughed, hard. "That's true."

Seth was proud of himself for causing such handsome laughter. "Oh, and Roman?"

"Hmm?"

He just had to try. "Could you…maybe…sing it?"

Roman winced. "I'm not a singer, mate. Sorry."

"Oh," Seth said, deflating. "Okay."

"But maybe you could?" Roman mused.

"Oh, uh, nah, I don't wanna get yelled at again." He glared at the man who'd criticized him before.

"Do you know the words?"

"Yeah. I like the song."

"You can sing. You have my permission."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"Well…thanks. That's nice. If I need to stop, just say so."

"I promise."

Roman seated himself in front of the piano again. Seth contemplated standing up, getting onto the two-inch-high carpeted stage with him. But he refrained. No embarrassing Roman.

Seth picked up on the words as Roman played the melody.

" _I see trees green, red roses, you…I see them bloom for me and you…and I think to myself…what a wonderful world_ …" He realized then he was swaying to the tune, not dramatically, not in great motions, but rocking gently to Roman's playing, to his own words. So far he thought he just might be doing a good job. He was even smiling again.

" _I see skies that are blue and clouds are white. The bright blessed day, the dark say—say—night. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world_ …"

Roman smiled, teeth glittering like he was the representative of a toothpaste company—the same company that produced the deodorant and body soap he could sell just by opening his mouth and speaking the name of it. What a seductive man, and he wasn't even trying!

" _The colors of the rainbow are so pretty in the sky. And also on the faces of people going by. I see friends shaking hands, say, how do you do? They're really saying, I love you_ …" He powered his way through words that still stabbed at him terribly. Tears were coursing down his blushing cheeks. " _I'm hearing babies crying, I watch them growing_ …"

"Excuse me," came the voice of Stuffy Old Fart. He was flagging down a server. "This man is drunk off his ass, and he's ruining a performance. Can you please escort him out?"

Seth gasped. No, he didn't want to go, now that he was finally feeling good about life again.

But two servers were approaching him now, waving their hands. "Alright, come on, sir, let's go."

Roman actually stopped his playing and stood up. "Uh, excuse me, guys? He's with me. He's fine. You can leave him."

"Are you sure?" one of them asked.

"I think he's sure," Seth voiced, beaming up at Roman. _He kinda saved my ass. Who knows what shit I'd get into out there_ …

"I filed a complaint about him, he's clearly not fit to be here." Mr. Stuffy was at it again, but Roman boomed: "I see him as man who's trying, and he's just fine where he is. If you have an issue with it, please, feel free to leave. Spare yourself the charm of recuperation."

The customer was incredulous.

Seth nearly bursted out laughing.

Shaking his head, he stood up from the table. "Come on, let's go, dear."

His lady friend was mortified. She kept her head low as her "dear" accompanied her out of the room.

"Anybody else have a problem?" Roman asked, folding his arms over his chest.

The few patrons remaining kept their mouths closed.

"That's good. Now, I'm going to play on. Since I was interrupted halfway through, I'll be starting the last song over again. That alright with you, Seth?"

Seth nodded, wordless. He was taken with Roman, absolutely taken.

He sang softly with Roman's playing, then listened intently to the remainder of the set. He recognized some songs and not others, but Roman was obviously very good at what he did.

Seth wasn't even poking fun at himself for finding Roman so goddamn attractive.

Because, he was. There just wasn't any denying it.

His beauty stemmed from within, too. Clearly.

At ten-thirty, Roman finished up "Moonlight Sonata" and took a bow. Seth was the only one left in the restaurant. He clapped loudly, hard, for a long while. Roman blushed, actually blushed, at his singular appraisal.

Roman moved off the stage—and towards Seth. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"Huh?"

"Are you in a hotel, or is your house nearby…?"

"Oh. Uh, I'm not sure I wanna go home. What's-her-name might still be packing her shit."

Roman nodded. "Alright. Did you drive here?"

"I can't remember," Seth said, rueful.

"Well, we can get that figured out tomorrow."

' _We_ '?

"Until then, let me get you to a hotel. A cheaper one than this, I mean. That way I know you're alright. Is that okay?"

"Y-yeah." Seth was once again impressed by his kindness. Something you didn't see too much now, not from strangers. Hell, hardly from the people you knew and (thought you) loved. "Th-that would be great. Thanks."

Seth's head was pounding, stomach seething. _I'm gonna be so sick tonight but please God Lord Almighty let it be when I'm in a hotel room and not with Roman_.

"Does he owe you anything for the drinks, Lou?" Roman asked.

The bartender—Lou, apparently—shook his head. "Paid in full."

"Okay. Thanks, Lou. See you next time."

"Good night, Roman." Lou waved to him. "Take it easy, kid. You're gonna be alright."

"Thanks, Lou," Seth called like Lou was an old buddy of his.

Seth blinked and the next thing he knew, Roman was opening the passenger door to a Corvette, older model, decent paint job. Had he blacked out, or what the hell? "Nice ride," Seth told him. "Thanks for it, by the way."

"It's no trouble. There's a hotel right down the street."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Honestly, because I've been where you are, Seth. Not on Valentine's Day, I guess, but…drunk. Tired. Hurt. Everything you're feeling right now, trust me, I'm no stranger to it."

"We've all been there."

"Is this your first heartbreak?"

"I thought I've been hurt before, but not like this. Never like this."

"Poor guy." Roman rubbed his leg again. Seth couldn't get over how good one little motion like that felt. "Girls, right? Trouble."

"Tell me." Seth held in another burp. This one singed his throat. "So, you always play at that place, or…?"

"It was a gig I found on craigslist. They hire musicians to play for the rich guests. Decent money."

"Ah. So it's not your normal setup?"

"Hardly. I take whatever I can get nowadays. It's tough."

"Yeah…" Seth was woozy. He battled his fatigue, his illness. "Looks hard to make a living off…"

"It is. But that's what I told myself the day I committed my life to music. I'd rather be broke doing something I love than rich and hating my work."

"Personally, I'd rather be rich doing something I love. That's just me, though."

Roman laughed again. A sound just as sweet as his music. "I like you, Seth. You're a good guy."

"I like you too, Roman." _A lot and more than I should. Clumsy rebound here, going on_.

"Never let anyone tell you different, okay?"

"Mmm…okay, Roman…"

Seth must have blacked out again, or dozed off, because now he found he'd almost teleported from Roman's car to a small hotel lobby, to a hallway with lights too bright buzzing above him and huge golden doorknobs.

"Here's your stop, Seth." Roman inserted the key card into the slot and towed Seth into the room.

Seth leaned into Roman. He tried to open his arms for a hug but it was too much effort. He needed a bed. And a toilet. "Thank you so much for taking care of me, Roman…" Seth was crying again but he didn't let it concern him. "I was such a wreck tonight, I still am, and you don't know me but you care…"

Roman held him. Seth felt his warm lips on his forehead. "I do care, Seth. Like I said. I can relate. And we have to look out for each other, right? In this world? Boys gotta stick together."

"N-not all girls are so bad, right…I mean, there'll be someone else…"

"Maybe. But let's get your heart all healed up before you decide to give it to anyone else. Okay?"

 _You don't know me_. But Seth wanted him to. He wanted to know Roman the pianist, all about him, his story, his life…

But right now, he wanted that bed. That toilet, probably.

"Okay," Seth said.

"I'm sticking my number in your pocket. Call me in the morning, alright? Seriously. Let me know how you're doing. If there's any way I can help you."

"You've done so much for me already," Seth said.

"Yeah, I'm kind of a dick like that."

Seth attempted a smile. His heart was smiling. His brain, however, was shutting off.

"Good night, Seth." Another kiss. Soft lips touching his sweaty skin. _Kiss me again…kiss me more_ …

"Good night…Roman…"

But Roman was gone now.

Seth was alone.

He collapsed onto the bed like deadweight.

Tonight he would cry. Be sick. Feel like shit. But tomorrow…tomorrow had Roman waiting for him.

And he'd call. Oh, he'd call.

If he remembered to.

 _Let me hold onto his memory…even if I never see him again…I need him_ …

Seth's mind finally turned out for the night, for good.

Even in the blackest of unconsciousness, the most fiery and destructive of intoxication, the godlike Roman still played in his dreams. He even sang.

* * *

 _Wow.. I liked writing this one a lot.. I might extend it in the future with a sequel, or even continuing this one as a longer story. What did y'all think? :)_


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